


If

by Magnavox_23



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnavox_23/pseuds/Magnavox_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wakes in the night covered in sweat and tears she doesn't remember crying...</p>
            </blockquote>





	If

If she wakes in the night covered in sweat and tears she doesn't remember crying from nightmares of the destruction of Atlantis, of the lives that were lost in her older self's reality, then it's ok that the first thing she wants is comfort. If the comfort she wants; she craves, comes from John, then that's ok too, because he was there, he heard as much as she did of the suffering, the death and that puts him in the unique position of understanding.

If she were to travel the halls in silent step to arrive outside his quarters, quietly knocking while brushing away the last remnants of moisture from her face then that's alright because this isn't the first time she's wandered these parts at night, listening to the soft lapping of the waves against this ancient city. The sound used to calm her, deriving peace within her troubled mind, but tonight, it's not enough.

If the image she is met with as the door slides open is of wild green eyes, tousled hair and slightly parted lips then that's understandable too because he's just awoken, and it has nothing to do with the words 'lost' and 'puppy' that reside in her head while trying to name the expression that is most likely mirrored in her own.

If he takes her arm, roughly pulling her into his room and against his bare chest at the door slides closed, then that's to be expected as she's pretty sure he's had the nightmares as well if the haunted look in his eyes is anything to go by. A hand finds it way into her hair and begins to softly massage her scalp as she listens to the erratic beat of his heart. The edges of her dream slowly ebb away as she wraps her arms around his waist, simply holding him, feeling his warmth.

If he reaches up to touch her face as she pulls back, finding an errant tear, similar to the ones he's trying to hold back then who cares if the part of her that should feel embarrassment at their situation finds none to cling to? As he leans in to kiss her, any thoughts other than the immediate moment escape her when she opens her mouth, tasting him, learning him.

If she continues her kisses down his throat as he carefully backs them towards the bed then it's rational that her somewhat guilt-ridden thoughts might lead to Simon, to home. She knows he won't wait forever, why does she still expect herself to? John falls roughly to sit at the foot of his bed, bringing her with him so that she ends up on his lap. He pulls the old shirt she uses for sleeping in over her head and tosses it before hiding his face in her chest. She knows he can feel her heart beating as erratically as his and she grasps handfuls of his soft messy hair, holding him to her.

If he slides his hands down her back and into her pants grabbing for her and pulling her closer then it's only natural that she gyrates her hips against his, easing the ache growing inside her. After all maybe this isn't even real, maybe she's still dreaming, so it doesn't matter when he shucks off his boxers, kicking himself back further onto the bed while managing to keep her on top of him. The soft intake of breath he releases when she runs her fingers over his stomach and chest could all very well be a figment of her imagination along with the trail his own meandering digits take, removing her sweats and finding their way further down, feeling her soft wet flesh.

If she stifles a moan when she slides down on him, taking him so deep inside her, then maybe she's just hearing things, it is the middle of the night and she's sure she's not the only one still getting used to the sounds of an alien world. Hell this could be a figment of someone else's imagination, because she doesn't remember this ever feeling so good or so right. He holds her hips steady as she rises and falls above him and she throws her head back when he thrusts up into her making it that much more delicious.

If he once again uses those talented fingers to manipulate her, rub her, then she damn well hopes it's not imagined or a dream because she explodes around him, holding on for dear life as the tremors rack her body and she relinquishes her grasp on the pain, the past, the nightmares...

But if John Sheppard tells her that he loves her, honestly conveying that one simple truth with expressive green eyes, then that is not ok. Because it would be unacceptable that her own eyes fill with tears she's not allowed to shed in the knowledge that she can't say it back.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When](https://archiveofourown.org/works/618765) by [Magnavox_23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnavox_23/pseuds/Magnavox_23)




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